Writers 
If you want to see love with no conditions, don’t look in books.
Look at a mother.
She’s the first person who ever chose us before we could choose anything.
We didn’t have a CV. We didn’t have money. We didn’t even have manners yet.
But she looked at this crying, messy, tiny human and said “Mine.”
And from that day, her heart got a permanent tenant.
SHE’S THE CEO OF SACRIFICE.
Mothers run the biggest company in the world and nobody pays them.
The company is called “Us.
New shoes for the kids? She’ll wear her slippers one more year.
Last piece of meat? “I’m not hungry, you eat it.”
Bills everywhere? “We’ll manage, don’t worry.”
Fever at 2am? She’s up, with cold water and prayers, like she wasn’t tired herself.
She bleeds in silence so we can shine in public.
She carries worries in her chest so we can carry dreams in our heads.
And she never sends an invoice.
SHE’S OUR FIRST HOME.
The world can be loud. Cold. Confusing.
But her voice? That’s home.
“Have you eaten?”
“Be careful on your way.”
“It’s okay, try again.”
“God will help you, my child.”
Her lap was the first hospital.
Her food was the first medicine.
Her hug was the first therapy.
When we failed, she didn’t throw us away. She said “Dust yourself and stand up.”
When we won, she told the whole street like she won the lottery.
She’s the only person who will be proud of you even when she doesn’t understand what you do for work.
HER LOVE HAS NO OFF BUTTON.
We can be 5 or 35. To her, we are still “my baby.”
We can make mistakes. She’ll be upset, yes. But she won’t leave.
Angry with us? She’ll still cook.
Disappointed? She’ll still pray.
We forget her birthday. She remembers the day we had chickenpox in primary 3.
She calls not because she needs anything.
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
That’s a love that doesn’t expire. That doesn’t get tired. That doesn’t ask “what did I get in return?”
SHE BUILDS LEGACIES IN WHISPERS.
We didn’t notice it then, but she was raising us the whole time.
“Greet people.” “Don’t lie.” “Pray before you go out.” “Work hard.”
We rolled our eyes. Now we say those same things to other people.
Her patience became our backbone.
Her kindness became our habit.
Her faith became our foundation.
She plants trees she may never sit under. But her grandchildren, and their grandchildren, will eat from them.
FINAL WORD
One day we will grow up and understand.
The most expensive thing she ever gave us wasn’t money or gifts.
It was time. Attention. Worry. Sacrifice. Prayers at night when we were sleeping.
We will have bosses, friends, partners, and fans.
But we will only ever have ONE mother.
So call her today. Not because it’s a special day.
Because her phone lights up differently when it’s you.
Hug her longer. Thank her for the things she never complained about.
Make her proud while she’s here to see it.
Because a mother’s love is the closest thing we have to God’s love on earth.
Unconditional. Endless. Selfless.
And if you’re lucky enough to still have her, don’t waste it.
Tell her.
She deserves to hear it.
_"Her children rise up and call her blessed." Proverbs 31:28_
#MothersLove. #HerHandsBuiltMe.
